The Official View
I rose on the following morning still possessed by the determination to
make some oportunity during the day to call on Thorndyke and take his
advice on the now urgent question as to what I was to do. I use the word
"urgent" advisedly; for the incidents of the preceding evening had left
me with the firm conviction that poison was being administered for some
purpose to my mysterious patient, and that no time must be lost if his
life was to be saved. Last night he had escaped only by the narrowest
margin--assuming him to be still alive--and it was only my unexpectedly
firm attitude that had compelled Mr. Weiss to agree to restorative
measures.
That I should be sent for again I had not the slightest expectation. If
what I so strongly suspected was true, Weiss would call in some other
doctor, in the hope of better luck, and it was imperative that he
should be stopped before it was too late. This was my view, but I meant
to have Thorndyke's opinion, and act under his direction, but
"The best laid plans of mice and men
Gang aft agley."
When I came downstairs and took a preliminary glance at the rough
memorandum-book, kept by the bottle-boy, or, in his absence, by the
housemaid, I stood aghast. The morning's entries looked already like a
sample page of the Post Office directory. The new calls alone were more
than equal to an ordinary day's work, and the routine visits remained to
be added. Gloomily wondering whether the Black Death had made a sudden
reappearance in England, I hurried to the dining-room and made a hasty
breakfast, interrupted at intervals by the apparition of the bottle-boy
to announce new messages.
The first two or three visits solved the mystery. An epidemic of
influenza had descended on the neighbourhood, and I was getting not only
our own normal work but a certain amount of overflow from other
practices. Further, it appeared that a strike in the building trade had
been followed immediately by a widespread failure of health among the
bricklayers who were members of a certain benefit club; which accounted
for the remarkable suddenness of the outbreak.
Of course, my contemplated visit to Thorndyke was out of the question. I
should have to act on my own responsibility. But in the hurry and rush
and anxiety of the work--for some of the cases were severe and even
critical--I had no opportunity to consider any course of action, nor
time to carry it out. Even with the aid of a hansom which I chartered,
as Stillbury kept no carriage, I had not finished my last visit until
near on midnight, and was then so spent with fatigue that I fell asleep
over my postponed supper.
As the next day opened with a further increase of work, I sent a
telegram to Dr. Stillbury at Hastings, whither he had gone, like a wise
man, to recruit after a slight illness. I asked for authority to engage
an assistant, but the reply informed me that Stillbury himself was on
his way to town; and to my relief, when I dropped in at the surgery for
a cup of tea, I found him rubbing his hands over the open day-book.
"It's an ill wind that blows nobody good," he remarked cheerfully as we
shook hands. "This will pay the expenses of my holiday, including you.
By the way, you are not anxious to be off, I suppose?"
As a matter of fact, I was; for I had decided to accept Thorndyke's
offer, and was now eager to take up my duties with him. But it would
have been shabby to leave Stillbury to battle alone with this rush of
work or to seek the services of a strange assistant.
"I should like to get off as soon as you can spare me," I replied, "but
I'm not going to leave you in the lurch."
"That's a good fellow," said Stillbury. "I knew you wouldn't. Let us
have some tea and divide up the work. Anything of interest going?"
There were one or two unusual cases on the list, and, as we marked off
our respective patients, I gave him the histories in brief synopsis. And
then I opened the subject of my mysterious experiences at the house of
Mr. Weiss.
"There's another affair that I want to tell you about; rather an
unpleasant business."
"Oh, dear!" exclaimed Stillbury. He put down his cup and regarded me
with quite painful anxiety.
"It looks to me like an undoubted case of criminal poisoning," I
continued.
Stillbury's face cleared instantly. "Oh, I'm glad it's nothing more than
that," he said with an air of relief. "I was afraid, it was some
confounded woman. There's always that danger, you know, when a locum is
young and happens--if I may say so, Jervis--to be a good-looking fellow.
Let us hear about this case."
I gave him a condensed narrative of my connection with the mysterious
patient, omitting any reference to Thorndyke, and passing lightly over
my efforts to fix the position of the house, and wound up with the
remark that the facts ought certainly to be communicated to the police.
"Yes," he admitted reluctantly, "I suppose you're right. Deuced
unpleasant though. Police cases don't do a practice any good. They waste
a lot of time, too; keep you hanging about to give evidence. Still, you
are quite right. We can't stand by and see the poor devil poisoned
without making some effort. But I don't believe the police will do
anything in the matter."
"Don't you really?"
"No, I don't. They like to have things pretty well cut and dried before
they act. A prosecution is an expensive affair, so they don't care to
prosecute unless they are fairly sure of a conviction. If they fail they
get hauled over the coals."
"But don't you think they would get a conviction in this case?"
"Not on your evidence, Jervis. They might pick up something fresh, but,
if they didn't they would fail. You haven't got enough hard-baked facts
to upset a capable defence. Still, that isn't our affair. You want to
put the responsibility on the police and I entirely agree with you."
"There ought not to be any delay," said I.
"There needn't be. I shall look in on Mrs. Wackford and you have to see
the Rummel children; we shall pass the station on our way. Why shouldn't
we drop in and see the inspector or superintendent?"
The suggestion met my views exactly. As soon as we had finished tea, we
set forth, and in about ten minutes found ourselves in the bare and
forbidding office attached to the station.
The presiding officer descended from a high stool, and, carefully laying
down his pen, shook hands cordially.
"And what can I do for you gentlemen?" he asked, with an affable smile.
Stillbury proceeded to open our business.
"My friend here, Dr. Jervis, who has very kindly been looking after my
work for a week or two, has had a most remarkable experience, and he
wants to tell you about it."
"Something in my line of business?" the officer inquired.
"That," said I, "is for you to judge. I think it is, but you may think
otherwise"; and hereupon, without further preamble, I plunged into the
history of the case, giving him a condensed statement similar to that
which I had already made to Stillbury.
He listened with close attention, jotting down from time to time a brief
note on a sheet of paper; and, when I had finished, he wrote out in a
black-covered notebook a short précis of my statement.
"I have written down here," he said, "the substance of what you have
told me. I will read the deposition over to you, and, if it is correct,
I will ask you to sign it."
He did so, and, when I had signed the document, I asked him what was
likely to be done in the matter.
"I am afraid," he replied, "that we can't take any active measures. You
have put us on our guard and we shall keep our eyes open. But I think
that is all we can do, unless we hear something further."
"But," I exclaimed, "don't you think that it is a very suspicious
affair?"
"I do," he replied. "A very fishy business indeed, and you were quite
right to come and tell us about it."
"It seems a pity not to take some measures," I said. "While you are
waiting to hear something further, they may give the poor wretch a fresh
dose and kill him."
"In which case we should hear something further, unless some fool of a
doctor were to give a death certificate."
"But that is very unsatisfactory. The man ought not to be allowed to
die."
"I quite agree with you, sir. But we've no evidence that he is going to
die. His friends sent for you, and you treated him skilfully and left
him in a fair way to recovery. That's all that we really know about it.
Yes, I know," the officer continued as I made signs of disagreement,
"you think that a crime is possibly going to be committed and that we
ought to prevent it. But you overrate our powers. We can only act on
evidence that a crime has actually been committed or is actually being
attempted. Now we have no such evidence. Look at your statement, and
tell me what you can swear to."
"I think I could swear that Mr. Graves had taken a poisonous dose of
morphine."
"And who gave him that poisonous dose?"
"I very strongly suspect--"
"That's no good, sir," interrupted the officer. "Suspicion isn't
evidence. We should want you to swear an information and give us enough
facts to make out a <i>primâ facie</i> case against some definite person. And
you couldn't do it. Your information amounts to this: that a certain
person has taken a poisonous dose of morphine and apparently recovered.
That's all. You can't swear that the names given to you are real names,
and you can't give us any address or even any locality."
"I took some compass bearings in the carriage," I said. "You could
locate the house, I think, without much difficulty."
The officer smiled faintly and fixed an abstracted gaze on the clock.
"<i>You</i> could, sir," he replied. "I have no doubt whatever that <i>you</i>
could. <i>I</i> couldn't. But, in any case, we haven't enough to go upon. If
you learn anything fresh, I hope you will let me know; and I am very
much obliged to you for taking so much trouble in the matter. Good
evening sir. Good evening, Dr. Stillbury."
He shook hands with us both genially, and, accepting perforce this very
polite but unmistakable dismissal, we took our departure.
Outside the station, Stillbury heaved a comfortable sigh. He was
evidently relieved to find that no upheavals were to take place in his
domain.
"I thought that would be their attitude," he said, "and they are quite
right, you know. The function of law is to prevent crime, it is true;
but prophylaxis in the sense in which we understand it is not possible
in legal practice."
I assented without enthusiasm. It was disappointing to find that no
precautionary measures were to be taken. However, I had done all that I
could in the matter. No further responsibility lay upon me, and, as it
was practically certain that I had seen and heard the last of Mr. Graves
and his mysterious household, I dismissed the case from my mind. At the
next corner Stillbury and I parted to go our respective ways; and my
attention was soon transferred from the romance of crime to the
realities of epidemic influenza.
The plethora of work in Dr. Stillbury's practice continued longer than I
had bargained for. Day after day went by and still found me tramping the
dingy streets of Kennington or scrambling up and down narrow stairways;
turning in at night dead tired, or turning out half awake to the hideous
jangle of the night bell.
It was very provoking. For months I had resisted Thorndyke's persuasion
to give up general practice and join him. Not from lack of inclination,
but from a deep suspicion that he was thinking of my wants rather than
his own; that his was a charitable rather than a business proposal. Now
that I knew this not to be the case, I was impatient to join him; and,
as I trudged through the dreary thoroughfares of this superannuated
suburb, with its once rustic villas and its faded gardens, my thoughts
would turn enviously to the quiet dignity of the Temple and my friend's
chambers in King's Bench Walk.
The closed carriage appeared no more; nor did any whisper either of good
or evil reach me in connection with the mysterious house from which it
had come. Mr. Graves had apparently gone out of my life for ever.
But if he had gone out of my life, he had not gone out of my memory.
Often, as I walked my rounds, would the picture of that dimly-lit room
rise unbidden. Often would I find myself looking once more into that
ghastly face, so worn, so wasted and haggard, and yet so far from
repellent. All the incidents of that last night would reconstitute
themselves with a vividness that showed the intensity of the impression
that they had made at the time. I would have gladly forgotten the whole
affair, for every incident of it was fraught with discomfort. But it
clung to my memory; it haunted me; and ever as it returned it bore with
it the disquieting questions: Was Mr. Graves still alive? And, if he was
not, was there really nothing which could have been done to save him?
Nearly a month passed before the practice began to show signs of
returning to its normal condition. Then the daily lists became more and
more contracted and the day's work proportionately shorter. And thus the
term of my servitude came to an end. One evening, as we were writing up
the day-book, Stillbury remarked:
"I almost think, Jervis, I could manage by myself now. I know you are
only staying on for my sake."
"I am staying on to finish my engagement, but I shan't be sorry to clear
out if you can do without me."
"I think I can. When would you like to be off?"
"As soon as possible. Say to-morrow morning, after I have made a few
visits and transferred the patients to you."
"Very well," said Stillbury. "Then I will give you your cheque and
settle up everything to-night, so that you shall be free to go off when
you like to-morrow morning."
Thus ended my connection with Kennington Lane. On the following day at
about noon, I found myself strolling across Waterloo Bridge with the
sensations of a newly liberated convict and a cheque for twenty-five
guineas in my pocket. My luggage was to follow when I sent for it. Now,
unhampered even by a hand-bag, I joyfully descended the steps at the
north end of the bridge and headed for King's Bench Walk by way of the
Embankment and Middle Temple Lane.